I don\'t want to think.
I think.
Like a python engulfing
more than I can swallow.
A dream must be cracked.
A coconut to release
the white of soul.
Sitting on beach, I watch
the washed up years. The sun
roars, gives a laugh― and
goes down leaving red bruises.
A fireball zooms in―
because I won\'t leave the dais.
Like a mason bee, my
nest is coming up. I was
talking to ghost of yesteryears.
The fragile bones carry
you for a fat journey.
No one follows you.